Iran Blog - Iran Visitor Tehran Guide

University of Tehran

2009-06-20T12:06:00.004+04:30

The University of Tehran is the leading university in Iran and one of the top universities in the Middle East. Founded in 1934, the University of Tehran has twenty faculties, with around 32,000 students and 1500 teaching staff.

The student body has a majority of female students and over 300 students from overseas.

The main campus is situated south of Laleh Park east of the north south Kargar Avenue. Since the Islamic Revolution of 1979, the University of Tehran has been the site of Tehran's Friday prayers.

Image by Zereshk

University of Tehran (English page)
Central Administration of University of Tehran
16 Azar Street
Enghelab Ave
Tehran
Iran
Tel: 9821 61113358

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Map of Tehran

2009-06-17T20:17:00.003+04:30

Valiasr Avenue is a main north-south road in central Tehran. Tehran University is west of Valiasr Avenue with Amir Kabir University to the east. The main subway station on Valiasr Avenue is Majlis where it intersects Imam Khomeini Street. Tir Square is to the north west.

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Iran Provinces

2009-06-15T11:27:00.003+04:30

Iran has 30 provinces: Ardabil, Azarbayjan-e Gharbi, Azarbayjan-e Sharqi, Bushehr, Chahar Mahall va Bakhtiari, Esfahan, Fars, Gilan, Golestan, Hamadan, Hormozgan, Ilam, Kerman, Kermanshah, Khorasan-e Jonubi, Khorasan-e Razavi, Khorasan-e Shomali, Khuzestan, Kohgiluyeh va Buyer Ahmad, Kordestan, Lorestan, Markazi, Mazandaran, Qazvin, Qom, Semnan, Sistan va Baluchestan, Tehran, Yazd and Zanjan.

Sistan va (and) Baluchestan is the largest province by area. Gilan on the Caspian Sea coast is the smallest province by area.

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Jameh Mosque Qazvin

2009-05-24T08:46:00.002+04:30

The Jameh Mosque in Qazvin, west of Tehran, is popular place to gather.

Reputedly constructed over a Zoroastrian fire temple, the historic Jameh Mosque has a blue dome and some striking interior relief calligraphy.

Qazvin is west of Tehran on the A01 highway.
There are trains and frequent buses making the two and a half hour journey to Qazvin from the capital.

© Will Yong

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Qazvin Imamzadeh Hossein

2009-04-19T13:14:00.004+04:30

Known for its carpets, Qazvin is west of Tehran on the A01 highway.

The Imamzadeh Hossein shrine (below) is a shrine commemorating Hossein, a son of Imam Reza (765-818; the seventh descendant of the prophet Muhammad) and dates from the 16th century.

The shrine is known for its beautiful geometrical tiles and is set in a courtyard with a fountain.

There are trains and frequent buses making the two and a half hour journey to Qazvin from Tehran.

© Will Yong

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The Remaking of Iran Exhibition

2009-03-28T08:48:00.005+04:30

Shah 'Abbas - The Remaking of Iran Exhibition is currently showing at the British Museum in London until June 14, 2009.

The exhibition focuses on 17th century Iran during the reign of Shah 'Abbas I (1587–1629).

Long associated with his new capital city at Isfahan, the reign of Shah 'Abbas saw a period of peace and increased trade and prosperity.

The objects on display, many seen outside Iran for the first time, include calligraphy, carpets, ceramics, Qur'ans, mosque lamps, paintings and silks.

The British Museum also has a permanent collection of Persian art.

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Hosein Kaffash

2009-02-01T21:41:00.001+03:30

I

The street was already clear from yesterday’s snow though patches still reflected luminous white from the bare earth of the mountainside. The brushes, tins, knives and rubber heels in Hosein’s wooden cart rattled as its wheels stuttered over the gravel left behind from the salt trucks. A Peykan taxi trundled past in low gear, pulling its thick steel carcass up the hill without complaint like a passive mule. Snow had again not been forthcoming this year, the extended autumn was proving as dry and bright as the summer. Though his grandfather’s orchard in the north had been sold long ago, out of habit, Hosein wondered whether the mild winter would snap suddenly and decisively like the year before and throttle the unripe fruit of the orange trees.

Up ahead, a four-wheel drive attempted a handbrake turn but could only manage a disappointing two metre skid, grinding the gravel into the unrelenting asphalt with a scrape. The gleaming hulk sped away and Hosein could again hear the rattle which attended the wheels of his hand-built cart. He neared the corner where the street turned back on itself and climbed further up the mountainside. He stopped and felt a breeze, chilled by the snowy peaks above, waft down and touch the light sweat on his forehead. He closed his eyes, breathed, and frigid air stung a little on the inside of his sinuses. “Allah-e Shokr”, he whispered to himself, moved by the alternate sensations of heat from the pale winter sunlight and the ripples of cold in the air.

On the last Friday of every month, Hosein the Kaffash brought his work up to this pleasant part of town, perched high on the Tochal foothills, detached from the polluted inner-city air. The neighbourhood knew him well enough by now for many of the residents of the forty or so low-rise apartment buildings to keep any shoes in need of repair at home, anticipating his next visit, rather than carry them to Tajrish Square where two other cobblers plied their trade on the steps by the bank.

Hosein turned and saw that his son had fallen some way behind. “Ali-jaan, come to daddy, come on!” At his father’s call Ali broke into a staccato run. Thick layers of clothing under his puffer jacket made it difficult for his arms to swing and he held them out stiffly to his sides, the yellow woollen bobble on his winter hat bounced with each tiny stride. Now nearly seven years old, Ali was old enough to accompany his father on his Friday rounds, a convenience which gave father and son their only prolonged contact during the week and Mariam some respite at home, though for this Hosein sacrificed his day of rest.

Hosein the kaffash knelt down in front of his son from whose mouth steam-laden breath was pumping out in short gusts. His wide, pebble-black eyes blinked twice and opened to their widest and the boy smiled as Hosein pulled off his hat, dried off his hot brow with a gloved hand and ruffled his son’s matted hair.

II

Ali stood mutely observing a mean-looking black and white tomcat while his father climbed the steps of another of the three-storey blocks. The cat pleaded at regular intervals with a persistent howl issuing from the depths of unfulfilled hunger and lust. A middle-aged woman with no headscarf appeared at a second floor window to toss down a plastic bag of chicken bones. The bones half spilled onto the paving stones and the sound of the mesh screen sliding shut scratched the prevailing hush. Hosein rang the first floor buzzer and could hear the cat pawing at the plastic bag for a few seconds before the click of the intercom and a woman’s voice.

“Yes?”

“Good morning miss, I’m the kaffash. If you have any shoes to shine or repairs for me I’m at your service.”

“Oh, I see…. Let me ask my husband… Mehrdad!”

Another click and the intercom fell silent. Hosein rang the second and third floor buzzers but no answer came to disturb the greedy, hollow sound of the cat’s hard teeth on bare bones. Hosein shifted his cart into a bright triangle which the sun threw over the steps up to the entrance. From it he withdrew a tattered square of coarsely woven stuff cut from the thick material of a motorcycle saddlebag which he placed on the first step where he would sit. A man he recognised from previous visits emerged wearing a long overcoat over a casual t-shirt carrying a pair of black leather shoes in one hand.

“Salaam Agha, I’m sorry but it’s just these today. You repaired them the last time you were here, may your hands not hurt! If you could just shine them for me and leave them inside the front door when you finish.”

He handed the shoes down from his place on the landing and opened his wallet. He drew out a crisp two thousand toman note and both men’s eyes held the folded blue rectangle for a shared moment from opposite sides of a great divide.

“It has no value, I’m at your service.” Hosein offered his ta’arof, the ritual refusal to be payed, but the money was already in his hand. The shoes had lost little of the shine that Hosein himself had put on them a month before and with every stroke of his brush he fought off the sense that he was in league with the mendicant accordian players and street sweepers who rang the same doorbells for small change. His eyes narrowed on the smudged outline of his own face which was beginning to emerge on the shoe in his blackened hand.

The door of the next block opened and an amply-proportioned female form emerged, draped in a pale grey floral print chador. She edged sideways to plant her feet on the first step, directly opposite where Hosein was sitting, one hand holding the moulded concrete bannister and the other cradling a tray against her bosom.

“Ali, go and help the lady. Quick!”

Without a word, the boy ran to the bottom of the steps, slipping and saving himself from a fall with both his hands. He beat his gloves free of the still fresh snow.

“Careful now, Ali.” Hosein observed the handover with as much care as the woman and young Ali executed it. “May your hands not hurt, you’ve made so much effort, thank you ma’am. Say thank you Ali,” to which Ali responded with a straightforward, “merci.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I’m so ashamed,” the woman replied with a self-deprecating chuckle. She had a round face and a turned up nose. With her arms concealed under her grey chador she looked comically like an owl. “I’ll ask my grandson if he has any work for you,” she said.

Calling on Imam Ali for strength, the old woman hauled herself back up the steps with the same determined effort with which she had descended. Hosein rested the tray on his wooden cart and as father and son shared the unfamiliar tasting food, the relentless mewing of the vagrant black and white cat began once again. Hosein tossed him a scrap which did nothing to silence him.

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Ashura 2009

2009-01-09T02:27:00.001+03:30

Short Cuts: Ta'arof

2009-01-09T02:06:00.001+03:30

The two men ordered their kebabs and the waiter motioned for them to sit at a simple formica table. The tiny kebab restaurant was busy this evening on the eve of Eid-e Ghadir.

Outside the first snow of the year was falling gently on the glossy black streets. One of the men adjusted the position of a steel frame chair and sat. It was a tactical slip which allowed his friend to open the play in a classic ta’arof gambit.

“Right, so why don’t I go next door and get us some fresh juice, what’ll you have?”

Taken by surprise, the seated man had no option but to come back at his friend with a rather cliched rejoinder, “thank you sir, but please be my guest.” His predictably vain attempt to get up and beat his opponent to the door was stopped by his friend’s outstretched arm.

“Come now, I won’t hear of it, let me this time, melon? pomegranate? These are on me,” the standing man said as he turned and made for the exit. Perhaps his move for the door was a fraction of a second premature.

“Ok, ok,” the seated man replied, seeing that the only way to keep his chances alive now was to feign surrender and come back with a different approach, “I’ll come with you, I can’t decide what I want until I see what they have.”

The two exited the restaurant together. Both men fingering their wallets.

(c) William Yong

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Recycling in Tehran

2009-01-02T08:01:00.002+03:30

Collecting recyclable materials in Tehran for money is undertaken by a small army of economic migrants from Iran's outlying regions and neighbouring nations such as Afghanistan.

Garbage in Tehran amounts to approximately 70% of the total waste produced in Iran. Plastic accounted for over 9% of this total in 2003 and is growing as a percentage of the whole. 2,355,740 tons of solid waste were produced in the capital in 2003, with much of it dumped in the Kahrizak landfill.

© Iran Visitor

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Kermanshah

2008-12-21T12:42:00.001+03:30

Kermanshah is the capital of Kermanshah Province. The city of Kermanshah is situated 525km west from Tehran about 120 km from the Iraq border.

The main places of interest in the province are the historic gardens of Taq-e Bostan and the bas relief carvings at Bisotun.

The Greek hero, Hercules, is carved into the rock at Bisotun and is believed to date from 148BC and the Seleucid dynasty. Earlier are the Bisotun Inscription and a bas relief of Darius.

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Hosseinieh

2008-12-14T09:53:00.001+03:30

Hosseinieh are like religious clubs.

They get especially packed during the Ashura festival when men pack in to pound their chests while listening to intense, repetitive music.

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Tehran Joob

2008-11-26T07:35:00.003+03:30

Water which flows from the Alborz Mountains runs through Tehran in a network of joob, which are deep gutters that line most north-south running streets. Plenty of trash gets dumped in on the way and they often get blocked.

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Thursday Night at the Bakery

2008-10-22T20:12:00.001+03:30

I’m sitting on the step in the last of the evening light, waiting in a queue of around five. It’s mostly men in the evenings, wives will be at home preparing dinner. It’s also the first day of the weekend, so tonight, demand for fresh “naan sangak” - a wholesome flat bread cooked on hot pebbles - is high.

Little brother scoots past my knees carrying a bundle of separated newspaper pages, ready for customers to grab to wrap their hot bread. The family business starts from the littlest one up on this Thursday evening shift. Inside, a boy not much older retrieves the cooked bread on a spatula as it appears on the revolving stone plate which carries them through the oven. The lad’s stout frame suggests he’s the older brother of the chubby little newspaper boy. His advantage in years puts him one step closer to the production end of the family business.

At peak times you won’t find a single Tehran bakery without waiting customers spilling into the street outside. Mass-produced bread is available at supermarkets but the reaction at home when you bring back a still-warm armful from the local bakers’ speaks of a link between man and his staple food that plastic packaging somehow comes between.

There’s a dull clang of wood on metal as the twenty-year-old baker’s apprentice drops the long palette handle into its holder. Even before it stops rattling his hands are in the aluminium trough to grab another slick, wet pat of dough. He’s the hard-running fly-half of the operation, the living link between the raw stuff and the furnace. If he wants to run his own bakery one day he’s got to serve his time at the oven door.

While the midfield dynamo continues to hum, the master baker’s assured eyes are on the doorway, watching the fading light of the evening. He’s transferring the last of the dough from the big aluminium mixer to the trough for the apprentice to work with. Pulling out a larger lump of the gloopy raw stuff than I think two hands can handle, I worry that the dough which is lolling over and around his wrists, is going to fall onto the floor. But his hands know the consistency of the stuff of his trade better than that. They guide the lump into the half-empty trough and it falls in with a slap.

The lanky understudy with his Roman nose watches as the master baker gives his last orders and departs. I imagine the young man’s thoughts are on the possibilities of the weekend as he continues to eye the doorway with his hands in the dough.

“How many do you want?” the apprentice asks a youth standing in line.

“Seven,” the boy answers. He’s no more than a teenager but the stains on his clothes, tanned neck and arms and world-weary expression suggest he’s already spent more than a little time working to pay his keep. Perhaps he’s one of the hundreds of young men who dig around in trash cans to collect recyclable materials for cash.

“You can have seven ‘nun-e salavati,’” the apprentice motions to the pile of bread kept aside for those who don’t have the money to pay.

“No,” the boy answers stoically.

“Take them, they’re fresh,” the apprentice insists. According to Iran’s tradition of ta’arof a genuine offer is never made only once.

But with an upward nod of the head which Iranians employ to express an outright objection, the pauper boy insists the issue is closed. He turns his back and rejoins the rest of the customers waiting in line.

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Milad Telecommunications Tower

2008-10-10T18:08:00.003+03:30

The Milad Telecommunications Tower (Borj-e Milad) opened this week in Tehran. At 435m, the tower is the 4th largest in the world.

Designed by architect, Dr. Mohammad Reza Hafezi, the tower is part of the new Tehran International Trade and Convention Center. The tower has restaurants at the top with amazing views of Tehran below.

The Milad Tower is designed to withstand earthquakes of 7.5 on the Richter scale.

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South Khorasan Province

2008-09-12T12:20:00.004+04:30

South Khorasan Province is located in the extreme east of Iran bordering Afghanistan. The main towns of the province are: the provincial capital Birjand, Ferdows and Gonabad.

The previous province of Khorasan was the largest province of Iran until it was divided in 2004 into North Khorasan, South Khorasan and Ravazi Khorasan.

Birjand has a population of approximately 160,000 inhabitants and Birjand Airport has flights to Tehran and Mashhad.

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Iran Collection British Museum

2008-08-21T20:02:00.005+04:30

The British Museum in London has some of the finest pieces of ancient Persian art outside of the National Museum in Tehran.

Many of the pieces were excavated by Robert Gordon from Persepolis in the early 19th century.

The citadel of Persepolis was constructed by Darius I around 500 BCE and the iconography of the sculpures and relief works included influences from Egypt, Greece and Mesopotamia. Persepolis was destroyed by the Macedonian invader Alexander in 330 BCE.

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Iran-Japan Relations

2008-07-17T08:09:00.004+04:30

When President Khatami visited Tokyo in 2000, he was the first Iranian leader to visit Japan since King Reza Shah Pahlavi in 1958. At the time, he and the Japanese premier, Mr Mori, made plans for friendly relations and greater economic cooperation.

According to official Iranian statistics, the volume of bilateral trade between Japan and Iran reached US$14.3 billion in 2007 and this is expected to increase to US$20 billionin 2008 as a result of rising oil prices.

At the people-to-people level, things look positive. There are 5,227 Iranians officially registered as living in Japan and around 300 Iranian students. According to Ambassador Araqchi, academic exchanges between the two countries 'play a vital role for further deepening of our relations.' Culturally, there has also been some interesting collaboration in areas such as cinema - for instance, the 2003 movie 'Kaze no Jutan' (The Wind Carpet).

Japan is also active in Iran holding events such as Noh theater performances and recently hosting a ceremony at its embassy in Tehran at which it presented equipment for a charitable project, for the benefit of children with intellectual disabilities.

Ambassador Araqchi is optimistic for the future, declaring: 'We would like to expand our regional and international cooperation with Japan. At the same time, we are looking forward to seeing further expansion of economic, technological and cultural cooperation with our Japanese partners.'

This is a shortened version of a longer article on J@panInc

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Ardabil Province

2008-06-18T06:16:00.002+04:30

Ardabil (also spelled Ardebil) Province is located in the north west corner of Iran, bordering Azerbaijan and the Caspian Sea. The city of Ardabil is the capital of the province.

Being cooler than the rest of the country, Ardabil attracts many tourists especially in the hot summer months.

There are flights from Tehran and Tabriz to Ardabil Airport, 11km from downtown Ardabil. There are buses from Ardabil to Tehran, Tabriz (4 hours), Qazvin (7 hours) and Rasht (4 hours).

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Sistan and Baluchestan Province

2008-05-21T20:12:00.005+04:30

Sistan and Baluchestan is the largest of Iran's thirty provinces by area. Sistan is the area to the north and Baluchestan lies to the south bordering Pakistan.

The province as a whole has a population of over 4 million people and is one of the driest and poorest areas of the country. Zahedan, with over half a million inhabitants, is the provincial capital and it is possible to pick up visas here for both neighboring Pakistan and India.

Zabol (pop. 132,000) is an exotic and dangerous border town with Afghanistan to the north of Zahedan.

There are flights to both Zahedan (daily) and Zabol (weekly) from Tehran. There are shared taxis (savaris) from Zahedan to Zabol.

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Baluchestan and Iran

2008-04-08T22:18:00.003+04:30

IranVisitor recently took a trip to Baluchestan is a pretty traditional place compared to Tehran. Wherever we were received as guests women and men were strictly separated. I attended a wedding without even seeing the bride.

When I saw women and girls in the streets they were often wearing black chadors loosely draped over outfits like these. But the black covering never fully hid the bright colours beneath. It was just one of so many ways that Baluchestan reminded me of India and showed me more clearly than ever that Iran is a diverse country and is essentially nothing without this diversity.

Baluchis are not separatists by any means. The Baluchi people are a relatively new ethnic group and accept their position sandwiched between the two great civilisations of Iran and India. Baluchis from Pakistan seem to have no problem crossing the border into Iran where they find plenty of work and higher wages. Unfortunately, some of the lawlessness of Pakistan also makes it over to Iran and there have been some high profile kidnappings of foreign tourists in the area and a bomb attack on Iranian soldiers in Zahedan.

More on Baluchestan soon...

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National Museum of Iran Tehran

2008-03-26T07:31:00.003+04:30

The National Museum of Iran in central Tehran is not to be missed on any visit to the capital.

The original building of the museum, which houses the pre-Islamic exhibits dates from the 1930s and was designed by French architect, Andre Godard.

Building 1 of the museum houses artifacts ranging from Iran's prehistoric past to the Elamite, Achaemenid and Parthian periods.

Image © Camille-Helene Lemouchoux & IranVisitor.com

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Baseej Parades for 22 Bahman (11 February)

2008-02-19T11:24:00.002+03:30

Rally to mark the 29th anniversary of the 1979 revolution.

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Taking Pictures in Tehran

2008-02-19T10:59:00.003+03:30

The rallies to mark the anniversary of the 1979 revolution are an uncomfortable mix of festive gaiety and political posturing. Walking down "Revolution Street" towards "Freedom Square" there were people begging to have their photos taken. Every time I stopped to point my camera, passing groups would shout for me to look. Kids in camouflage gear and pro-Palestinian check scarves puffed out their chests and waved their flags more vigorously. At one point a group of about twenty-five men all lined up neatly and patiently for me. Best of all, one middle-aged lady sitting by the side of the road looked up at me as I passed – her eyes just begging me to take her picture. She smiled a sweet smile, beaming innocently and incongruously over a poster showing the frankly lascivious grin of Ayatollah Khamenei and a black and white "death to America" placard.

Iran's biggest show of nationalist pride is actually one of the easiest times for a photographer (foreign or otherwise) to take people's photographs. With the whole day almost entirely devoted to showing defiance against foreign meddling, the theory is, the further this message travels the better. And since "the enemy" speaks English, it makes sense to translate the printed material.

The national psyche has been so long moulded by opposition and Iran's pariah status in the western world that I even sensed a degree of knowing self-parody. Chanting slogans against America, Israel and, to a lesser extent, Britain has taken on the air of a national pastime. The role of 22 Bahman (11 February) as a political as a national day of rememberance has at least been equalled by its new role as a street festival – a kind of super-politicized Carnaval. There was even a tent by the side of the road giving kids the opportunity to throw darts at a crude mockup of Uncle Sam. A geopolitical fairground game. The host was wearing a comically-tall stars and stripes top hat.

At any other time, taking pictures in Iran can be sensitive to say the least. And it’s hard to put your finger on why. Once I was taking a picture of bus. A normal city commuter bus. A plain clothed man, no uniform, no ID approached me and asked me if I had permission to take pictures. I said that we were in a public place and there was no need for permission. He assured me that I was wrong. After some time talking I think I got to the bottom of it. He told me that many foreigners come to Iran and take pictures of things to present Iran in an unfavourable light. I asked him what about the good things in Iran? What if foreigners want to show Iran in a good light? I had taken my picture and he was getting bored so we parted without reaching a conclusion.

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2008-01-21T11:02:00.003+03:30

Listen to the sound of Tazieh

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